


Alto Mediodía

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blood, Characters to be added, Deadlock McCree, Do Not Tag As McReyes, Father-Son Relationship, Guns, Other, References to Drugs and/or Alcohol, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11226591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The adventures of one Jesse McCree, where the drinks are bitter and the echoes of gunshots still plague his mind. And just what was Gabriel Reyes' damage? [Wip. Updates every few days.]





	1. Chapter 1: A Single Step Forward

**Author's Note:**

> > Another McCree joining Overwatch/Blackwatch and the troubles along the way because I love that shit. I really like Dad Reyes and if you consider this a ship fic for McReyes I will be disappointed
> 
> This is a WIP and will be edited as the story progresses. bear with me.

 

 

Jesse McCree was, surely, one lucky son of a bitch.

 

 

Nobody liked playing poker with the bastard, and for good reason. He had a way with the cards from a young age, and often made it a habit of messing around with his fellow gang members anywhere from sliding a buddy a tip about another person's hand to downright cheating his way to victory.

It often earned him a shiner or two, but in the end Jesse had always gotten what he had wanted. Well, almost always. He didn't exactly choose to be picked up by the scruff like a lost cat and hauled off into Deadlock.

It was a wonder whether or not being left in that gutter would have been a better life, or if he was just meant to be claimed. The possibility of a lone ace to be apart of a greater hand, or for it to be discarded with the hopes of getting something better; a risk, but sometimes necessary.

His hands hurt and his head was spinning.

From playing cards in a small circle between Rio and Chavez he's suddenly thrown backwards into a metal folding chair and handcuffed to a cold table. And to think he was winning that round. Jesse found himself staring at the tattoo on his forearm for a moment before he kicks and squirms, yelling at his captors as the door slams shut.

"Why don't you come out and face me like a man, you motherfucker!?"

The table doesn't budge--it was bolted to the floor, but all of Jesse's thrashing about caused the chair to slide and squeak noisily. His hat was gone, and the empty holster on his belt only added to his naked feeling.

 

His head was throbbing as everything came back.

Right, he was just caught up with most of the other Deadlock Rebels, and now he's in an interrogation room.

With a bloody nose, a killer headache, and a sore throat to boot. The chair slips out from underneath him and he continues his shrieking, now halfway on the floor and painfully held up by his wrist, the fit continues. What the hell did they think they were doing, all Jesse was doing was keeping watch, sure he shot a few of them but those fake ass cops shot first, self defense, right?

 

Jesse takes a long moment as memories of the incidents leading up to his and the other member's capture and grimaces at the thought of what they're going to do to him now that he's (somewhat) calm.  

 

_The cowboy sits crosslegged in a circle of a few fellow criminals, reading his cards with a poker face that could rival a statue's expression. Calm. Collected. The group were supposed to be on look-out duty, instead favoring the apparent lack of unusual activity to bask in the sun and play a few rounds of cards while the shipment arrives. A raid was supposed to go down on the train that goes over the canyon, and the Deadlocks were apparently going to jump it and get whatever it was they were going to steal._

_Jesse didn't really pay much attention to the makeshift briefing before being shoved out along with a small handful of other members to stand watch in case 'somebody goes sticking their nose in our business, McCree, focus'. It was a pain, really._

_As they heard the train approach the gorge, though, the quiet whirr of helicopter blades in the distance made the group curious enough to drop their cards and investigate. It wasn't a helicopter, however; much to their surprise, a large metal dropship with a white logo proudly displayed on the side approached their little base at an alarmingly fast rate._

_Jesse watches a few figures drop down from the ship via rope, and makes the brave decision of running towards their own base along with the others._

_As several heavily-armed and very intimidating figures drop to the ground, a sudden gunshot goes off and that's right about when everything goes to shit. Jesse draws his revolver, quickly aiming up at one of the intruders as the Chavez and his trio book it to chase a few of the mystery agents inside the base._

_"Fuckin' drop it, prettyboy." The brunette had snarled, gesturing for the larger man to lower his rifle as the sound of a firefight ensues within the building behind him._

_"Easy there, kid." The man slowly lifts up his rifle in the air, other hand palm-up defensively. Jesse growls and stands upright, puffing out his chest._

_"I ain't no fuckin' kid, and I sure as hell ain't fucking around with you. Drop the gun or drop dead, asshole."_

_Who the hell did this weird blue guy think he was, trying to talk him out of unloading six well-aimed shots into his stupid model-looking face? Jesse quietly wonders where he saw the man before, not quite recalling._

 

_The trip down memory lane is short-lived._

_Jesse, ready to give Blondie a bullet to the face, feels a bit of pressure on his shoulder immediately followed by a cold sensation running throughout his body. The shock makes him turn to face whatever caused the sensation before he's suddenly grabbed by the soldier behind him._

_"Son of a-.." Jesse hisses, feeling his arms quickly go heavy._

_His Peacekeeper drops onto the dirt, and with a last defiant act he shoves away from Blondie. What he is quick to recieve, as he tries to make a grab for his Peacekeeper, is the butt end of a heavy pulse rifle to the nose. McCree drops onto his knees with a groan, and the world goes blurry as pain shoots through his face, before finally fading to black._

_He didn't ever remember waking up. Jesse was just suddenly standing in front of a height chart, holding a black sign he doesn't remember the face of, and giving the camera a tired, dead stare as his mugshot was taken. First the front, then the profile, as well as a picture of the tattoo that paints his forearm. After that, he's shoved into a room, escorted into a cheap metal chair, and cuffed to the table to be forgotten._

 

The inside of his mouth tasted like gunpowder, smoke, and blood; he must have bitten his lip amidst his fit.

The massive one-way 'mirror' covering the opposite wall gave him a nice view of himself, and Jesse felt like he was five, much to his own disgust. Cheap, old clothes that were well past any sort of cleanliness, a rather bloodied face, and his awkward teenage body covered in dirt and dust and reeking of more than one kind of shame; the image of himself almost made him laugh right then and there. 

Surely someone like Diaz would have his ass if he ever saw Jesse look so weak.

 

Well, now that he thought about it, Diaz would more likely have his head.

 

Stuffed and mounted onto a wall as a trophy, or perhaps grossly put on a pike outside of the Deadlock Gorge as a wary reminder to those who step out of line. Jesse slowly sunk back into the chair, looking down at his hands. They were raw from the cuffs, and his fingers were twitching slightly. Not the quick, careful hands of a gunslinger and poker champion, but the calloused, bloody hands of a stupid kid caught up in shit he shouldn't be.

 

Surely Carmen and Rio were in a nearby room, pointing fingers and naming names in any effort to save their own skin while at the same time taking down anyone they could. Diaz would probably be silent as ever and Chavez would probably be joining that vow of silence. Truth be told if he did attempt to do the same he wouldn't get far. It's not as if he knew every dirty secret the Deadlocks had to offer.

He might get away on the slim chance he's aware of some small secret regarding a few of the ones that got away, but it wouldn't be much. 

Thoughts suddenly poured into his mind and he felt himself starting to actually, honestly panic. He was only seventeen, they wouldn't slap some kid up for long, right? There was an empty feeling in his gut that was more than the pain of hunger.

Regret, most like it. Perhaps all his luck had finally run out, here in this uncomfortable-ass chair.

The last moment of freedom he had was spent cheating at cards and insulting some sort of supermodel-excuse of a cop. Jesse spends the next few hours with his head resting in the crook of his arms and thinking about his life choices. 

 

Truth be told, they were pretty shitty choices. 

 

Right when he was almost actually asleep, the door suddenly creaked open to reveal a tall, large-ish man with a beanie that is definitely out of today's style, looking through a file. It was fairly dim in the room, but Jesse didn't need to have the greatest vision to tell that the man was disappointed at whatever he was looking at.

 

Realization set in as the door shut and the man tossed the folder onto the table, the contents fanning out before him.

"Seventeen counts of second-degree murder, eight counts of first-degree murder, four counts of attempted murder, illegal weapons trafficking to the point your warehouse could put any Costco to quick shame, drug trafficking, multiple counts of assault..."

 

The man flipped a page to uncover another one, which prompts him to quirk a brow at Jesse, who had put his head back down.

A sudden pair of hands slamming on the table caused the boy to jump back up, looking at the interrogator in surprise.

 

"Listen here, pendejo. You and I both know that there's enough on you to send you a one-way ticket to the deepest hole they've got, and I can personally guarantee I will not lose any sleep when they put the needle in your arm. You might want to think about this a bit more seriously."

 

Jesse felt his heartrate double, and he bit on the inside of his cheek. The man's gaze was intense and his tone was serious. Jesse isn't really sure whether or not this is a reverse good-cop, bad-cop scenario or if this guy was out to get him.

When he went to talk, he was interrupted by the raise of a gloved hand and an unamused look from the man.

"Listen, kid, I don't want to hear it. Your little gang buddies? They're filthy little rats who squealed on you before we even got them in the room."

Clenching his fists and tugging slightly at the cuffs, Jesse looked up. "That's not true!"

His voice, he found, was hoarse from his tantrum earlier and it cracked, causing him to wince slightly. Who the hell was this guy to talk to him like he was some kid? His vision got a bit blurry and he felt his face heat up, but he was determined not to cry in front of this bastard.

He slumped back in the chair, shoulders up and chin against his chest, chafing against the raggedy bandanna around his neck as he glared daggers up at Beardie. "What do you want." Jesse huffed, his voice more of a quiet rumble at this point. The man shrugged, and went to pick up the papers and stuff them back into the file.

"Really, it's what do you want. I'm fine going home in about, say, thirty minutes, having a coffee and watching re-runs of old movies while you rot in prison. But," he continued, using the table to adjust the papers into a nice, even pile.

 

"You don't have to go down that road. I've read your report, and I've seen what you can do, boy. It took Amari's sleepdart to knock your skinny ass out, and you almost shot one of my men."

So that's what dropped his ass flat. Good to know that he didn't randomly faint in the middle of the 'duel'. "The way I see it, with some actual goddamn training, you could use your cute little gun-waving skills for good instead of cheap drug money fueled off of civilian terror."

 

The man uses a boot to scoot in the other chair he never used, giving Jesse a look that beckoned the boy to give him a bullet inbetween the eyes. If only he still had his gun.

Was the man being serious? Or was he just fucking around with him to get some kicks at the betrayed look in Jesse's eyes as they haul him off downtown?

 

It was difficult to say. The way the other man had said it, though, just screamed opportunity, and Jesse weighed his options.

 

Turns out, he didn't really have any.

 

"..That just ain't fair, man..." he mumbled, warranting the other man to suddenly drop the file onto the table. Jesse leaned back in his chair and braced himself as the taller man approached and he winces as he's suddenly grabbed by the front of his shirt.

 

"Listen here, boy. I want you to _understand_ that no matter how cliche it may sound, life ain't fucking _fair_. And it sure isn't fair to the people who are terrorized by scum of the Earth packrats like you who do absolutely jack shit about anything not revolving around _you_."

Fingers curling around his bandanna make Jesse wheeze quietly, and the interrogator just digs his fingers in more to tighten his grip and lift him off of the chair slightly.

"Just how long do you think you're going to make it in maximum security before you start crying for this opportunity I'm dishing out, on a silver fucking platter, mind you. None of your groupies got this chance." With a snarl, Jesse is dropped back into the chair.

A few tears rolling down his cheeks just add to his sense of defeat, and he avoids looking at the other man.

The tattoo on his forearm feels like it's burning his skin and Jesse feels shame wash over him. The man just stands there in silence for a few moments with his hands on his hips and an expectant look on his features. With a sniffle, Jesse finally looks back up at the man.

 

"How th'hell do I know you're not just yankin' my chain with this 'deal' ah yours...?"

The man sits in the other chair, quirking a brow at the boy.

"Alright, serious talk? Now we're getting somewhere with you."

Jesse sniffles again. The man continues.

"Okay, I'm Gabriel Reyes, I'm head of a covert organization known as Blackwatch, I don't like the colour green and my favourite game is Mario Kart." Gabriel props his legs up onto the table, crossing his arms and giving Jesse an amused look to match his dumbfounded one. Jesse shakes his head.

Was this guy joking?

He didn't make a very good cop, doing this.

 

Jesse couldn't help himself. "Bullshit. Mario Kart? An' here I started ta think you were almost cool. That game is goddamn ancient." Gabriel shrugs with a grin of his own, shaking his head. "I'm serious. I just can't get over how good it is to knock people off of the track. And the blue shell of death? Priceless."

 

Jesse lets out a laugh, Gabriel joining in with a chuckle. After Jesse calms down he tries to gesture as he goes on. "Okay, okay, so, me now, right? Uhh..."

He trails off, thinking for a moment. Just who was he?

He was a snot-nosed kid who was facing adult charges for crimes he, though may have been forced to, still committed. Not that he would admit it, but it was a devastating thought. A pawn used for Diaz' own personal game of life, using who and what he could to make money and kill for his own benefit. Jesse was a lot of things, and right now he had to take a minute or two to really think of what his own idea of his identity was. He wasn't bad. 

But he wasn't good, either. 

 

"..I'm Jesse McCree, I'm one helluvah gunslinger, my favourite colour is red, and I really, really love enchiladas."

He wasn't sure if Gabriel was actually trying to play buddy-buddy with him, but it was a whole lot better than the alternative.

Get a no-nonsense cop with enough shit on Jesse to personally deliver him to prison without batting an eye, and giving Jesse the deluxe suit of a 25-to-life sentance.

A thought occurs, causing Jesse to frown in confusion.

"What is Blackwatch, anyway--is that like Overwatch?" The sudden image of a blue-coated prettyboy didn't exactly match one Gabriel Reyes personally punching a robot in the face.

Gabriel nods, looking to him. "Same sort of thing, we work under them. They get the fame, we do the dirty work. It's what I'm trying to offer you, kid. Truth be told we need more agents than we can afford, and you seem skilled enough to be apart of it. We do a lot of undercover and the like, nothing like in-your-face bullshit Overwatch handles."

 

For some reason, Jesse has the mental image of Gabriel dressing up like Batman or something, quickly erasing the thought from his mind as he nearly gags on the thought of him in spandex. "..So, you're saying I can really join it? No bullshit?"

 

Gabriel nods. "No bullshit." He sits upright, boots back onto the floor and Gabriel folds his hands on the table as he looks to Jesse. "Work with us, you get a clean slate. We'll house you, train you, and use you as a proper agent in the field. I'm not going to force you to do this, and there is a very real chance you could die. But it would be for a good cause, not just because some gang brat stepped out of line, okay? Got any requests on top of that?"

Jesse chewed on his lip again, teeth catching on broken skin as he eyed the file on the table.

  
"Can I get my hat back?"

With an amused smirk, Gabriel slid him a white form and a pen. 'Agent Application Form' was written in bold lettering at the top, and it had the Overwatch logo as a watermark. He doesn't answer. Instead, Gabriel gives the boy a rather comical shrug. Funny. Jesse grabbed the pen and scanned over it until he reached the name part, signing his name in his usual chicken-scratch.

"..So now what happens?" He asks, tossing the pen onto the table. The paper gets tucked into the file as Gabriel stands, using a free hand to pull a set of keys off of his belt and unlock Jesse's handcuffs.

Freed with a sigh of relief, he shakily rubs his wrists and looks up at Gabriel, unsure. It was difficult to say what he was feeling. Nervous, however, was definitely one of them. Afraid, even. Maybe with a pinch of anger here and their, but proud was nowhere on his list of current feelings.

Honestly, the most Jesse felt like right now, was helpless. This man could personally kick him right into prison at the drop of a pin, and Jesse had no way of knowing that he would follow through with this whole 'Blackwatch' initiative other than his word. 

 

A man's word, in this world, could only go so far, after all. 

 

"From this moment on you are now officially a Blackwatch agent. You will always follow orders, refer to your superiors as 'Sir', 'Ma'am', their rank and name or whatever the fuck they tell you to call them. You will be expected to remain on base until the time it is deemed for you to be able to leave by me and only me."

He was using a sort of military drill-like speech. "You're going to do whatever I say, when I say. Are we clear?" Jesse wipes his nose with his forearm, mumbling a 'yes' only to earn a pointed look from Gabriel.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes  _sir_." Jesse corrects himself, not without attitude. This was going to take a while. 

Gabriel tucks the folder underneath his arm and hooks the keys back onto his belt, gesturing for Jesse to follow him. He does so quickly, ignoring the sudden lightheadedness and moment of blurred vision as he stands from being in that fucking chair all goddamn day to tail Gabriel.

 

"It's best you stick with me. Don't talk to him."

Before Jesse could ask who 'him' was, the door swings open and a very angry oh my god that is mister Overwatch himself.

 

Jack fucking Morrison stood in the doorway and was glaring daggers at Gabriel, momentarily directing his rage at Jesse before waving a finger in Gabriel's face.

"You...you...god dammit, Gabe, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" He sounded pissed, and Jesse moved to stand a bit more behind Gabriel, who seemed more annoyed if anything.

 

How he could stay so calm was a bit of a mystery. "Listen, Morrison," Reyes spat. "Blackwatch is my division, and I will throw a goddamn birthday party for a fucking fire hydrant with the funds I get if I damn well please. I'm taking this agent," he emphasized, giving Jesse a gesture with a hand. "to Amari."

That seemed to have at least cooled Morrison's jets, if but for a moment.

The moment is short-lived.

"Amari is the one who really did the job of catching him. How many other members of that filthy gang ran off? Did you finish the paperwork? Is he registered. How old is he?"

Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose, putting a hand on his own hip and shooting Morrison a glare.

Jesse felt like he was in the middle of two parents in desperate need of a divorce rather than beside one of the most legendary heroes known on Earth, and probably one of the strangest excuses of an agent he has ever seen. 

"How long was he in here, Jack. When was the last time he ate, or had anything to drink? Did you let him use the bathroom? Look at him. He looks like shit, and you didn't care because you were too busy trying to throw the other ones in the slammer--"

"They are wanted criminals--"

"while I was trying to save this fucking boy--"

"Gabe, this is not the time--"

"and all you want to do is look good on the news while I'm the one who wants to actually fucking do something."

 

 

That comment made Jack go silent and furrow his brows. After a silent moment the blond sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and stepping aside. "..If he steps out of line, I'm going to personally kick both his and your ass across the country."

 

Gabriel gives Jack a clap on the shoulder, walking forward.

"Deal." Jesse shuffles after him, giving Jack a nervous glance before the two head down the hallway.

 

Gabriel stops Jesse before a room with some sort of caged off area, stepping inside and fumbling about. Jesse looks around in the building he's in, feeling far too disgusting to be here. The white, sterile interior of the room compared to his own grimy body made him shudder. There's a moment before something is suddenly shoved to his chest. 

A plastic bag of clothes with an 'L' sticker slapped onto them half-hazardly.

"Basic training clothes. Hold it." Gabriel points a finger, and Jesse doesn't dare move a muscle. 

 

There's some sort of metal click and when he looks down, Gabriel gave him a fucking ankle bracelet. "We wouldn't want you to wander off, now would we?" Gabriel gives him an amused look, before going back into the room. 

 

"Go down the hall, all the way to the last door on your left. You have ten minutes to take a shower and do whatever the hell you need to do in there."

 

Jesse gives said hall a curious look. Just how big was this place? It was nerve-wracking, the thought of getting lost in a place like this where he wasn't exactly wanted by most. He could probably raise a family in the time it would take to mentally map out this facility. 

 

"Here's your stupid hat." 

 

The stetson is frisbee-tossed over Jesse's head, who catches it with a grin and stuffs it onto his head. Gabriel stands in the doorway, jerking a thumb to down the hallway. 

He would give him a 'thank you' if he wasn't already hightailing it down the hallway at the promise of a hot shower and a pair of clothes that didn't reek of blood and shame. 

So far, this day went a whole lot better than it could have. 

 

Maybe Jesse's luck hadn't run out after all. 

 

 

It started with _the_ _showers._ He almost burned himself with the hot water but god did it feel amazing. He didn't remember the last time he had a hot shower.

 

He didn't remember the last time he took a _shower_ , either.

 

He didn't think too much about that fact. 

 

Jesse spent a good eight minutes under the water, just basking in the glory of the hot stream and thanking those most righteous for the miracles of modern plumbing.

Actually cleaning himself took another five minutes, easy. He used what appeared to be a third of the shampoo bottle, watching the soap rinse out in a disgusting grey puddle under him.

He used his nails to scrub himself clean, shivering slightly at all the dirt and grim that seemed to have sort of bonded with him.

Bleugh.

Once he deemed himself somewhat clean he turned the shower off, knees wobbling from being under hot water for so long. That, and on top of being dehydrated and most likely starving in more ways than one, he ends up grabbing the curtains as he suddenly slips backwards.

It was one of those public shower sort of situations so he didn't have to worry about hitting a ceramic tub.

 

It was just the cold tiled floor he was concerned about.

Jesse smacks against the floor, the sound of a wet body hitting the tile was surely comical, and he himself would have laughed if it weren't for the fact that he hit his head. Which, by the way, hurt like a motherfucker.

The sound of the drapes falling as well as Jesse's small frame smacking the floor was apparently enough to have a concerned-looking Reyes appear in the doorway.

"Jesse? Are you alri--"

"What the fuck you lookin' at oh my god get _out_!!"

 

His face heats up as he waves a hand towards the intruder, not really wanting the other man to get an eyeful of his naked body. Especially not after he just ate shit. Gabriel shoots Jesse a concerned look for a brief second before shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Right, okay. If you fell and got hurt, let me know, but shower time is over." With that he steps out, leaving Jesse alone to bask in his own embarrassment.

 

With a pained hiss he stands back up, kicking the curtain aside.

"Son of a bitch.."

Jesse grabs a towel from the rack, rubbing himself damn near raw in a quick attempt to get as dry as possible. After tossing the towel aside he gives the bag of clothes a turn-over, before tearing it open.

 

They were pretty basic. Black boxer briefs, a white undershirt, a pair of socks, and a rather stretchy (and very breathable) black long-sleeves shirt with the Overwatch logo on the breast.

After getting dressed and running a few fingers through his hair in some effort to tame the curls, he puts his hat back on and slips into his boots. He wasn't sure what to do with his old clothes, so he just balled them up and walked out with them.

 

Jesse was surprised that the ankle bracelet didn't get ruined with the water, damn thing was practically submerged, but the single shrill beep it emitted was startling enough that Jesse almost shit his pants.

 

Gabriel, who was hanging out by the doorway, laughed at Jesse when he was surprised, who whips his head around to give him a glare. Reyes holds his hands up shaking his head and feigning innocence.

 

Jesse isn't amused.

 

Reyes waltzes over to him, smug.

"Well, best I get you to your room. I was going to have Ana give you a look-over, but I think that can wait for tomorrow given the time and how tired I think we both are. Your clothes,"

he added with a gesture.

"Will be washed. You can keep them, but I don't want to see you wear your Deadlock shit in here. Got it?"

 

Jesse huffed quietly, adjusting his hat.

"Yeah." Gabriel is quick to correct him. "Yes, sir."

 

Jesse mocks a salute at that using a free hand.

 

His head was throbbing from earlier, and the shower incident didn't exactly help with that.

 

Gabriel leads him towards what seems to be a cafeteria, having Jesse toss his clothes into a hamper by the laundry room on the way.

 

The cafeteria was big, with rows and rows of tables and chairs that surely would have been packed if it weren't for the time. "Eat whatever you want, just don't make yourself sick." Gabriel leads Jesse straight to the little buffet line, offering him a plastic cup on a flimsy metal tray.

 

Gabriel got a tray of his own, snatching a cold slice of pizza from the box on the line while Jesse piles on different entrees and sides. The two sit opposite of each other, quietly eating.

He refills his cup with water about three separate times, and scarfs down a bowl of macaroni and cheese and inhales a small container of fruit. Gabriel gives him an almost amused look, but it quickly morphs into that of concern.

 

"Hey, kid, slow down there, or you'll choke."

Gabriel cautions, working his way through his second slice of pizza. Jesse makes an effort to heed his words and slows down his inhalation of his food down to a slow breath. Heh.

After a few minutes pass and Jesse finishes his mac n cheese, he quirks a brow up at Gabriel, who is giving Jesse's figure a curious look-over.

 

"See somethin' ya like?"

Jesse laughs at the disgusted look on Gabriel's face.

 

"No, no. Just thinking about getting you a different outfit, maybe. You're way too goddamn skinny, you know."

Jesse positively beams. "Ah, we're going to fix that, don't you worry."

 

As Jesse reaches for a glass bottle of soda, something doesn't quite sit well with him. He tries to open the bottle.

We're going to fix that.

Where has he heard that phrase before?

 

He thumbs for the cap, expecting it to pop open with a fizz.

 

Instead he hears a loud slap, ears ringing as he finds himself staring at the wall. Rather than the disgustingly white interior of the cafeteria he finds himself staring at the dull grey metal of a room, dirt and spray paint littering it.

 

_Jesse feels a throbbing pain in his cheek, and when he looks back he's standing up and staring at a few figures. Deadlocks._

_The one right before him has her hand to the side, and the pain in his face confirms that she just backhanded him. Jesse lets out a startled noise, holding a hand to his face._

_He recognizes her to be one of the higher-ups, though her name is beyond him at this moment. The other two are seemingly faceless, their features long since forgotten. The woman, who was in her thirties probably, has long hair braided behind her, wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt and a grin with a lit cigarette inbetween her teeth._

_The strike knocked his hat clean off of his head, and as he goes to reach for it a boot suddenly kicks it away, causing a few laughs from the small crowd before him._

_"Aw, look at him. Go fetch, lil' doggy!"_

_The woman cackles, her voice sharp and high-pitched. Her hands are on her hips and the Deadlock tattoo worn proudly on her exposed bicep. Jesse moves to grab his hat again._

_Instead, the woman grabs him by the collar of his shirt, tugging him back roughly._

_"See, you just aren't listening to me, McCree. I told you earlier to fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!"_

_There is a sharp hiss from Jesse as she grabs him by the hair, turning his head to look at her._

_The woman takes the cigarette out from inbetween her teeth, giving Jesse a sly grin._

_"It's okay, we're going to fix that."_

_She takes the cigarette and brings it to his face and there are tears streaming down his face but he can't cry out, he can't breathe and it hurts_

 

Suddenly her face shifted to Gabriel's, who was on the other side of the bench.

 

He had Jesse by the shoulders and was shaking him, concerned.

"Jesse. Jesse!?--"

Gabriel called out, stopping once Jesse looked at him, dazed. He was light-headed and couldn't breathe, oh god was he dying?

Jesse makes a stifled choking noise and Gabriel forces his mouth open with a few fingers, using his other hand to slip another finger into his mouth and much to the smaller man's surprise, pulls out a soda cap.

 

Jesse gags, and Gabriel roughly pats his back until he coughs loudly, drool running down his chin.

"You tried to open it with your teeth and almost swallowed it."

He explains, tossing the cap and wiping his hands on his pants. Once Jesse catches his breath he shoots Gabriel a dumbfounded look.

 

Great.

Not only did he embarrass himself but he almost fucking died trying to open a soda bottle.

 

Way to go, Jesse.

 

Genius of the fucking year award won yet once again, the undefeated champ of the Idiot League.

 

He felt his face heat up slightly. "What happened?" Gabriel asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Jesse shoves Gabriel off, going back to eating. "S'nothing. Leave me alone." His face and the tips of his ears were on fire, and Gabriel moves to sit across him once more once to give him some much-needed space.

After they were done eating in the awkward silence, Gabriel leads Jesse back down the hall to where he assumed he would be staying. It wasn't like what Jesse was used to. Instead of a blanket, or sometimes if he was good a sleeping bag on a cold floor he had his own fucking room.

Inside the sliding door was a cot, a desk and a chair, a side table and a black heavy-duty looking chest at the end of the cot. There was a piece of duct tape on it that had something scribbled on it.

 

J. McCREE

 

His name was written on it with a thick Sharpie, and Jesse looked around excitedly. He whipped his head back to look at Gabriel, grinning.

"Not much in here, if you need another pillow let another agent know. Password to the door is on your desk.."

Gabriel trailed off, looking down at Jesse.

"What?"

"I really get this. This whole damn thing?"

Jesse gestures with a hand, sounding unimpressed. The corner of Gabriel's mouth twitches at that. Jesse takes no time to run over and dive onto the cot. It squeaks obnoxiously, but he could care less.

Gabriel can't help but chuckle at Jesse lying awkwardly on it.

"It's not much, sorry--"

"I've never had my own /bed/ before. An' you're givin' me a whole fuckin' room!" Jesse cuts him off, stretching out with a loud sigh.

 

The other man doesn't comment, giving Jesse a concerned look but not saying anything for a moment. Jesse buries his face into the pillow, ignoring the dull throbbing pain in his face as he does so. After a moment, Gabriel awkwardly bids him farewell.

"...Yeah. Well, get some rest. You and miss Amari have a one on one tomorrow morning. Night."

Before Jesse could reply, the door slides shut and clicks with a metallic noise and an electronic beep confirms it's locked. Jesse gives the door a quiet stare, before rolling over onto his side. It feels nice. The blankets are a little scratchy, but it's far better than anything he's ever had, ever.

And Gabriel pretty much saved his life not only once from sparing him a life in prison, but from his stupid ass from having a sudden panic and choking on a goddamn bottle cap.

The rest of Deadlock is rotting away in prison and here he was. Fed, looked after, and in his own room with his own bed that wasn't fought over by a dozen angry gang members.

 

He sure was one lucky motherfucker.

 

Jesse rolls onto his stomach with a sigh, exhaustion kicking in after such a long day and he buries his face into his pillow, not bothering to even take off his hat as he gets comfortable and eventually drifts off to sleep.

 

_A woman with thick, curly hair in a lazy ponytail was smiling at him._

 

_She wore a dirty, but well-loved hat to shield herself from the harsh rays of the New Mexico sun. It was a wonder why she needed any protection from it, though, for her smile clearly outshines the sun itself._

_A quiet song echoes in his head as she sings, her voice melodic and calling to him. He can see her smile, but not her eyes. It took effort to recall what she was wearing, the hat and her smile the only true accessories on the woman._

_The two of them were outside, sitting on the porch. It was nothing but desert as far as the eye could see, but they never minded it. The distance kept them into the wild. It kept them free. The desert was dry, but it wasn't dead._

_A hibernating land patiently waiting for the next inch or so of rainfall, ready to flourish into bright colours once it tastes water. Like a butterfly waiting for the right time to come out of its cocoon._

_The flowers waiting to bloom on the surrounding cacti would make a lovely gift for the woman, Jesse reckons._

_Jesse swings his legs, bare feet calloused from running around on the hot sand and doing chores. They were taking a break, and Jesse was watching a few clouds slowly make their way over the distant plateaus, pointing out what shapes they resembled to the woman._

_The one he was looking at looked a bit like a heart, and with a grin he bounces excitedly to get her attention._

_Look, Mama, look at the cloud! It's flying away, I wonder when it's going to rain?  They hadn't had rain in a long time, so the thought was exciting for the boy._

 

_He looks back to the woman, but she's gone, leaving a worn-out hat in her place, and an empty feeling in Jesse's heart._

Jesse doesn’t sleep for long.

It was most likely around ten minutes or so before some sort of beeping noise ringing wakes him. Groggily looking around for the source, he gives the ankle bracelet an accusing glare. The beeping stops, and there’s a sudden blue light emitting from a panel by his door. The keycode screen changes to a blue background with an odd symbol, prompting Jesse to sit up with a hiss.

 Though he was used to sleeping on the floor, usually those consisted of dirt, or shitty wood. Not the well-polished floor of an Overwatch base. He would feel embarrassed about being caught in such of a position as this if it weren’t for the fact that at the moment, he was too damn tired to care.

Jesse squints at the panel, jumping slightly when a voice suddenly emits from it.

“Agent McCree, I have been informed that you are not only resting in front of Agent Salchow’s room, but you are ignoring orders from Commander Reyes. Are you alright?”

A woman’s voice talks to him through the speaker, and with a groan he moves to stand.

“Just fuckin’ peachy, thanks for askin’.”

 Great. Another babysitter. The voice continues, sounding far more stern than before.

“I am informing you that insubordination is not tolerated in Overwatch or any of its subgroups. Reyes will not be pleased to hear this.”

 

Ignoring her, Jesse starts walking down the hallway back the way he’s pretty sure he came.

The woman seems very intent on following him, the voice coming through the too damn conveniently-placed speakers through the halls. He mocks her wary words of guidance with a hand gesture and makes a face.

“Yeah, I’m going back, now leave me alone, lady.”

He huffs, footsteps echoing in the hallway. Eventually amidst his wandering he reaches a room that his group had wandered to, immediately feeling all eyes on him.

 

Instead of Gabriel, however, it was Morrison who was speaking to the handful of agents in a small group before him, trailing off as Jesse approaches. The group follows suit and Jesse feels anxiety wash over him and blood rush to his face.

“Well, look who finally decided to join us. Where did you head off to, McCree?”

Jack crosses his arms, tapping his foot as if he was scolding some sort of unruly child. Truth be told, Jesse sort of was in this situation, but that didn’t mean he liked being treated like one.

 

 A few cadets mumble amongst themselves as Jesse merged in with the group, soon all of them looking back up at Jack expectantly. He seems satisfied after a moment or two of giving Jesse the blue-eyed stink-eye before speaking.

 

“..As I was saying. We have a simulation tomorrow after lunch—“ A chorus of groans cuts him off, which in turn is cut short by a pointed look.

“..Listen, I don’t like them much either, but it’s important for you to know what  you’re up against. It’s not just the average servant-like Omnic out there. There are Bastions, OR-14’s, and all sorts of nasty machines looking to kill you.”

 

It wasn’t exactly inspiring.

 

"Not to mention various terrorizing humans at that. I want you ready to plan, visualize, and execute maneuvers that will save you and your teammates. You will be assigned a squad for the assignment and _all_ team members are expected to participate. Report to Reyes’ office at 0800 tomorrow for a full debrief. Dismissed.”

Jesse wasn’t so sure he liked the idea of going up against angry robots, simulation or not, in a group of people he’s not sure he could exactly trust as of yet. After all, who’s to say that they won’t just shoot him and call it a day?

The small crowd disperses at the dismissal, most of them grouping up with their friends to probably hang out before dinner or something. What time was it, anyway? His mental clock was off by what it felt like years at this point.

Morrison approaches once they’re alone, eyebrows furrowed and frown plastered on his face.

“Why did you wander off? You were supposed to be here. The only reason that I switched in with Reyes right now is because he and Ana are currently filling in paperwork.”

Jesse moves to comment, but he’s interrupted by Jack raising a hand. The boy huffs quietly at him, glaring daggers as the blond continues.

“Your papers to make you a downright official agent. Do you understand how much work I’m going to have to do later tonight to make _sure_ your record is buried deep enough to the point that you’re no longer a wanted criminal? The answer is a lot.”

 

Jesse has to force himself to stop gritting his teeth, hands balling up at his sides.

“Listen, I didn’t _ask_ to be put into your stupid fucking posse, asshole.”

“You made a choice—“

 

“It wasn’t much of a _choice_! I didn’t have one to begin with, it was just some game to get another fuckin’ soldier for your stupid superhero-wannabe Avengers army.”

 

Jack swallows visibly, looking down at Jesse. McCree just turns away from the other man, crossing his arms as he felt his face heat up further.

Dammit.

“I didn’t ask to be made into a weapon ‘gain…”

There’s a sigh from Jesse, feeling dangerously watery-eyed as he goes on.

“..So the least you could do is pretend that I’m not a nuisance long ‘nough ‘till I get shot, okay? At least then I’ll die without feelin’ like a burden.”

There’s suddenly a firm hand on his shoulder and the hallway shifts as Jesse is suddenly spun around to face a very angry Morrison.

The Strike-Commander is _livid_ , and he has Jesse by the front of his shirt, lifting him slightly to the point where his toes barely scraped the ground, much to Jesse’s surprise and horror.

“Do not _ever_ suggest that you are a weapon. You are an _agent_ of this organization, McCree.”

He spat the last word as if it were the name of some creature, rather than some punk kid.

“And you are going to act like it, whether you like being here or not is not my goddamn problem. The problem I have, however, is with people who would rather get shot than work for us.”

Jesse’s dropped back to his feet, but not for long.

“W-Wait-!?”

Jack grabs him by the forearm, marching down the hallway with a firm grip on Jesse.

The brunette is forced to shuffle after him, wincing slightly. A few agents lingering down the hall part ways as they spot a fuming Commander making a beeline towards the officers’ area. Jesse pleads quietly with Jack, worried that he was going to kick him out the door and let him fend for himself against law enforcement.

 

Instead, what he faces just might be a whole lot worse.

 

They’re back in front of Captain Amari’s office, and with a free hand Jack pounds his fist on the door with enough force to shake the doorframe. After a moment or two passes (which to Jesse feel a bit closer to an hour) the door swings open, revealing a very tired-looking Amari holding a tea cup.

The sight of Morrison looking so upset didn’t seem to faze her, as the woman nonchalantly takes a quiet sip from her cup. Jack, on the other hand, is far less amused.

 

“Where is Gabriel.”

Jack huffs, eyes flickering about the interior of Ana’s office as he searches it, Amari still in the doorway.

The woman quirks a brow, leaning against the doorway to further annoy and block Morrison.

“Gabriel? Well, I don’t know. But while you are looking for that man, surely you could look for your patience, for clearly you have lost it.”

Jesse would laugh if it weren’t for the angry grip Jack still has on his arm, which only seems to get harder at Ana’s snarky comment. And to think that this woman is second in command here. How she got that far up the ranks with an attitude like that is anyone’s guess, but there may be some hope for Jesse after all.

That is, of course, if he survives Morrison’s wrath.

“Ana, now is not the time to be messing with me. This punk is too much trouble—he ignored direct orders, wandered off, backtalked to me and even sassed me.”

This prompts Ana to quirk her brow.

“Strange. It sounds like he is acting like a seventeen year-old. Of course, what do I know. I’m only a doctor.”

She gives Jesse a humoured wink, before lowering her tea cup.

“Let the poor boy go, Jack, he has had a very long day I am sure. We all have, and I know we can talk about this tomorrow when everyone is in a far better mood.”

 

As Jack goes to speak, a voice interrupts.

 

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Jack?”

A very unamused Gabriel Is leaning against the wall, looking to the blond with a frown. Morrison gives him a stare before inhaling sharply and yanking his hand off of Jesse’s arm. The pressure relieved, McCree rubs at the spot, surely it is going to bruise by the following morning. Gabriel walks over to the trio.

“Athena told me you were up to no good, so I decided to have a look. You were really on the move, however, and I know you don’t usually move that fast for no reason if your training exercise results are any proof.”

Ana chuckles quietly to herself, matching Gabriel’s own small smirk down at Jesse.

“But it seems that _Commander Morrison_ is the one who has a problem right now. Go to bed, Jack, fuck.”

The whole exchange, Jesse didn’t even get a single word in, and to be honest he wasn’t even all that sure what had happened to begin with. Jack brought Jesse to Ana’s office to…what?

Snitch on him?

 

Not exactly the actions of such a respected soldier, rather, they're more or less the ones of a butthurt child.  

 

Jesse doesn’t catch much of the two men’s argument.

Ana ushered him inside her office, shutting the door behind them as she sits behind her desk.

"Please, sit down, Jesse.”

He plops into a chair before her desk. In the short time he was in here before, he didn’t have much time to really appreciate it.

The floor has brown carpet, with blue drapes covering up the far window. There were a few photos lining one of the walls, as well as several newspaper clippings about Overwatch and their involvement in various countries.

It appeared not everybody appreciated the organization’s actions if the headlines were much to go off of.

The arguing between Jack and Gabriel is muffled by the door, but Jesse didn’t need to understand what they were saying to know whatever they were talking about, their argument was getting fairly heated.

He gave the door a nervous glance, before looking back to Ana. She gives him a reassuring smile, setting her tea cup on a saucer that’s on her desk.

“Do not mind them. They just have very loud angry voices, do not worry about it, McCree.”

The woman folds her hands beneath her chin, using it to prop her head up as she looks at him. Well, if she says so, then those two guys out there have some serious alpha-dog personalities, and he didn’t exactly want to be on the other end of their wrath again.

“Can I get you anything? Some tea, perhaps?”

She offers with a gesture to the tea set before her.

“Oh, uh, mighty kind ah you, but I don’t much like tea. Sure do ‘ppreciate it though, ma’am.”

If he was wearing his hat he would give her a polite tilt of it, but instead settles for giving her a nod and sinking down in the chair. The argument going down in the hall seems to have died down enough that he could finally hear himself think. Jesse looks to Ana, bouncing his knee nervously.

“…Look, uh, I’m real sorry about talking bad to Morrison, but you should’ve heard the things he was sayin’ to _me_!”

 

Yet again, Jesse finds himself pleading his case.

 

He wasn’t exactly sorry, because in his mind he wasn’t wrong.

It was Jack who got all pissy over him speaking his mind. Granted, Jesse’s a subordinate speaking to literally one of the highest higher-ups they have here, and probably shouldn’t be speaking to him like that. But a man can argue, can’t he? And letting himself be walked over wasn’t exactly one of Jesse’s own personality traits, either.

Ana nods, listening and waiting before going to talk to Jesse. She was very patient it seemed, which McCree definitely lucked out on.

“Plus, I fell asleep in the hallway and then some lady started babysittin’ me about it.”

It struck some sort of chord with Ana, but not one he was expecting. She bursts out laughing, shaking her head and feigning wiping a tear.

“Oh, you poor child. I am sorry you had to go through that, but tell me…Athena caught you off-guard, didn’t she?”

Athena was obviously the woman who was speaking to him earlier, either that or Jesse and Ana are mixing up some identities.

“I think so, she was over the line and all…really surprised how she saw me.”

Ana points to the ankle bracelet on Jesse’s leg.

“That isn’t an accessory, you know. It lets Athena know where you are, when. We usually have trackers on all of our agents actually, but this one is made to stay on you just in case you decide to, say, wander off base.”

 

Ana goes to pour herself some more tea from the kettle, still amused. “Athena is not a real woman, if that is what you were wondering. She is an AI unit currently in beta. Some of her workings are rather…premature, but Winston is working hard with her.”

 

You’ve got to be joking.

 

So instead of some nocturnal secretary spying on him, Jesse has to worry about a robot tracking him every second of the day? Isn’t that what Overwatch was made for—to _fight_ robots and whatnot?

 

Ana puts a spoonful of sugar in her tea, stirring it before placing the spoon on the cup’s saucer.

“I am surprised nobody had told you yet, but at least now you know.”

She takes a sip from her cup, leaning back in her chair with a small sigh and using her other hand to straighten out a few papers on her desk.

“I have some work I must attend to, unfortunately, but if Jack keeps teasing you just let me or Gabriel know, and we will help you. He is a nice man once you get to know him, he’s just been…difficult lately.”

Jesse didn’t really want to get to know Morrison if all the man was going to turn up to be is some edgy pretty-boy with a small dog complex.

“Best you get going. You need to get some sleep, and those hallways won’t populate themselves.”

With a wink she dismisses him.

“Right. Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

He mocks tipping a hat, scooting out of the chair and heading for the door.

 

He could use another proper night’s sleep, and he could _sense_ his bed-cot-whatever you want to name calling to him. Jesse opens the door cautiously, in case one of the officers decides to bark at him when he emerges, but when he doesn’t see them he walks into the hallway, gently shutting the door behind him.

 

Jesse moves to walk back to his room to _oh god they’re kissing eugh hurk bluh._

 

The sight of his commander angrily pulling Captain Blondie into a kiss is now forever engraved into his mind. Not that he had a problem with guys kissing but _in the hallway god damn to think you two are professionals endorsed by the goddamn government._

 

Jesse scuttles down the hallway to his room, face red as he dives facefirst onto his bed, and tries to wipe the image of his commanding officers playing angry tonsil hockey from the back of his mind as he falls asleep. 

The next week creeps by. 

Jesse didn't even get to go to that 'simulation' Jack talked about because he was too busy doing all of these stupid damn chores he was assigned as a punishment. 

 

The hallways were the last thing to be done, and he was sweeping them without too much thought. It felt stupid, too, because earlier that morning he had to do extra push-ups per Gabriel's orders. 

At this point, it felt like the man was torturing him. 

 

"Hey, McCree." 

 

Speak of the devil. 

 

"What." Jesse huffed, giving Reyes all but a glance before returning to lazily sweeping. 

"You missed a spot." There was humour in the other man's voice, but Jesse wasn't having it. 

Instead, he walked over, and continued sweeping. 

 

Gabriel watches this, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and tries to break the silence. 

"..Listen...I didn't mean it like that--" 

"Oh, but a' course you didn't. I'm just a damn joke to you, aren't I?" 

Jesse narrowed his eyes, his knuckles going white with how tight his grip on the broom was. 

Gabriel frowned, stepping around Jesse to face the boy. "If you want to talk, let's talk. What's going on, Jesse?" 

 

"Everything! I can't talk to anybody, nobody even listens ta me in the first place an' all you do is laugh at my problems n' shit, which, I dunno what to do so I just go along all happy dog-like--" 

At this point, instead of sweeping, Jesse is basically flinging dirt around with the broom. Noticing this he drops it with an almost disgusted look. 

"..I just. I don't know what I expected when I joined, but it wasn't this. Your lil' 'pep talk' didn't exactly do wonders for me, either." 

Gabriel almost seems surprised at that, and Jesse turns away to pick up the broom again before he's stopped by Gabriel. 

"You're right." 

"..'bout what." 

"Everything. I've been treating you like a buddy-buddy kid, and for the most part I didn't fully consider your feelings. I'm sorry about that, Jesse, I really am." 

The cowboy swallows thickly, looking up at Gabriel and scanning his features. 

Reyes is concerned, frowning slightly and Jesse doesn't know what words to expect coming from his mouth now. 

"I've been a real asshole, and you didn't want to tell me what you were really thinking lately, because all I did was just...try to get you to laugh it off." 

There's a heavy sigh from the other, who looks around as if he was seriously thinking what to say next. 

Jesse isn't sure if he really wants to hear it at first, but this time Gabriel seems to really want to help him. 

"I'm sorry. Jesse, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, let me know. I promise to not treat you like that." 

Jesse frowns  

"Okay, like, I don't want to be treated like some kid, and I don't want you to think that all I do is bitch n' moan when I don't get my way either. Just. Treat me like a person, ya know?" 

Gabriel nods, and Jesse's heart soars.

"It was wrong for me to assume that I not only knew what you were going through, but how you felt and assumed some of this shit wouldn't bother you  I'm sorry." 

 

Finally. 

 

There's a pregnant pause between the two. Gabriel quirks a brow, smirking. "Say, how would you like to check out the firing range?" 

"..What?"

"I mean, after all this time you've been here I don't think you truly had the opportunity to show your stuff."

"Really!?" 

"Yeah. Plus, I think it would be a good chance to let you let off some steam. I'm still sorry, and you deserve some sort of emotional break. Nothing like emptying a clip into an Omnic chassis to really let out the stress." 

 

Jesse mentally fist-pumps. 

 

Gabriel was right--Jesse never really had a good chance to show off his batshit crazy aim, and this was a mental chance for redemption for the boy. 

Who knows what kind of crazy weapons they have up for grabs here? This is, like, one of the biggest crime-fighting organizations on the planet. 

Maybe they have something funny, like a gold-painted rocket-launcher with flames on the sides. 

"You're not bullshitting me, right?" 

Gabriel dramatically feigns offense, putting a hand over his heart before going into a deep bow. 

"Why, Mr. McCree, I am on a bullshit-free diet and I promise to thee that you will indeed get to go to the firing range with me." 

"Yes!" 

"After you finish sweeping the hallway." 

"Noooo!" 

There's always a catch with these things. Jesse picks up the broom, catching the playful look on Gabriel's stupid face before rolling his eyes and getting back to sweeping. 

 

The two talk for a while, going back and forth on their early (or in Jesse's case, earlier) childhoods and whatnot. 

"Yeah, and I used to play basketball--" 

"You did not." 

Gabriel holds his hands palms up defensively. 

"Hey, man, everybody had their own thing. Of course, I was one of the shorter guys they had but the SEP kind of fixed that for me, huh." 

"You think? I could really see you as, like, a football kind of guy." 

Jesse sweeps dirt up into a small pile, shakily holding the broom at an awkward angle to sweep the mess into the dustpan. 

"I'm going to reveal my biggest Overwatch secret to you, Jesse, and you must not tell a soul." 

Jesse picks up the dustpan, quirking a brow. 

"Hit me." 

"Jack really likes to play golf." 

"Oh my god." 

Jack must have gone through his old-man phase in his fucking twenties. The thought of Jack wearing a golfer's outfit and weirdly awkward shorts while driving a golf cart is priceless. 

"So, you play a sport?" 

Jesse empties the dustpan into a garbage bin, shaking his head. 

 

"Nah. I...never really had the time."

 

There's a long pause from the both of them. 

It was true, too. Running with the Deadlocks didn't exactly leave much room for leisurely activities (aside from poker) and Jesse was never brave enough to ask a few of them to play. 

He catches himself staring at the Deadlock tattoo on his forearm, before averting his eyes and looking up to Gabriel. 

"Why? You guys have a court here?" 

Gabriel nods. Jesse goes to shove the broom and dustpan into the supply closet. "Yeah, inside the gym." 

"Want to play sometime?" 

"Kid, I will destroy you." 

 

The two of them make their way to the firing range. Gabriel explains this one is the fairly simple, basic one. Not like the simulations, but it gets the job done. 

The range was a rather bland, prison cell-like structure with targets down the lane at various places. A few of them were the standard paper silhouettes but there were a few drones running about to practise on. 

And the guns. Oh boy, the guns. 

There were rifles, shotguns, pistols, and assault rifles, all that glowed. The majority use pulse munitions rather than, say, actual cartridges which really was something to go up against. 

"So, the basics, pick a gun and I'll tell you how to use it if you don't know how, yadda yadda." 

Jesse absent-mindedly reaches for a pistol. It's not too different from his own revolver (which is probably rusting away in an evidence locker) with the mechanics, but it didn't feel nearly as heavy as his. 

It was lighter, with a softer grip that made him feel like he was holding a piece of plastic rather than a weapon. 

Inspecting the gun over, he looks up to Gabriel, who had picked up an assault rifle. The man nods thoughtfully at Jesse's choice. 

"Light revolver. Much more accurate than the mobile lawnmower I have here." Reyes gestures to the gun in his arms. It was funny, but a bit accurate. 

Jesse turns to the range, staring down a few of the targets. It was..something, to say the least.

On one hand he was free from the grips of Deadlock, and the other here he was just another weapon. 

 

No, scratch that. He was a person. An agent. 

An agent of Blackwatch. 

And holy fuck what was that noise. 

Jesse turns to Gabriel, who was unloading a clip into one of the silhouette targets that was a bit closer. 

The recoil on that thing was astounding, and the firepower the rifle possessed was something fierce.

To be on the business end of a weapon like that would be terrifying.

 

Jesse shivered excitedly before turning in his own lane. 

He thumbed the safety off, made sure the gun was not only in working order but loaded, and aimed. 

The gun wasn't as loud as his own was another thing he noticed as he fired at the target down his own lane. 

A near-perfect bullseye. 

Gabriel lets out a low whistle, the opening of his gun positively smoking. "I could never really get into pistols myself. For me, at least, they were always too reliant on a good aim." 

Gabriel's target was nearly ripped to shreds, confirming Jesse's thought about the beast that is the pulse rifle. However, his own aim with the revolver was a bit more threatening than the spread of a rifle. 

At least, that's what he assumed. 

 

"Try a shotgun."

 

Jesse shrugged lightly, emptying the rest of the rounds into the silhouette target. Head, head, heart, head, heart. 

It was exciting to see after how long it had been since he last had a gun in his hands. 

How long has it been, anyway? Jesse didn't know, and didn't care to ask. 

Jesse quietly reloads the revolver, smirking. He had a deep pride in his work. Sure, it meant he was excellent at shooting people for a gang, but it was one of the only things he liked. 

There was a pause as he thumbed the barrel.

 

Keep your eye on the target. 

 

His eyes flickered from the standing targets to the moving drones. 

 

Wait. 

 

He lifted his gun oh-so-slightly. 

 

Breathe. 

 

Jesse exhaled quietly, his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

 

Fire. 

 

Six rapid shots exhoed as Jesse unloaded the barrel.

Each one hit their target--three drones tumbled to the floor as a bullet pierced their heads and fresh marks appeared on the other three standing targets. 

"..Well, shit. That was...wow." 

Jesse looks to Gabriel, whose eyes were wide and definitely seemed impressed. 

"You really are one hell of a shot. I mean, I know you were, saw it and all, but just how did you do that?" 

Jesse paused, before shrugging lightly. "..Don't really know myself, Jefe, just kind of...shoot." 

What an excellent way of putting it. 

He is definitely getting an award for that. 

Gabriel beckons Jesse over to him, who sets the gun down on the table. "Ever fire a pulse rifle?" 

Jesse shook his head, Gabriel standing behind the boy and handing the gun to him. It was heavier than it looked, and McCree already thought it looked pretty heavy. 

There was a small display on the end of it, showing how many rounds it had left amongst a few other things regarding to the gun's functionality. 

"On average, it fires around four or shots a second. It's decently accurate for the kind of weapon it is, but it does have a spread at around..." 

Gabriel squints at his own target. 

"..Eight yards? Something like that, I dunno. You gotta be close with this thing.  Anyway, move your hand up--not that high. Don't put your shoulder to it like that or the recoil will dislocate it." 

The gun felt a bit warm from when Gabriel was firing it, and Jesse's arm was starting to get tired just from having to hold the other end of the gun up. 

Gabriel gently nudged the gun down on both ends, pulling Jesse's elbow out to the side a bit more. 

"There you go. Now, go ahead and empty the clip on that drone up there. Squeeze the trigger nice and easy." 

One of the ones Jesse had destroyed had apparently got rebuilt, and set back into place in a relatively still position. 

Jesse slowly squeezed the trigger. 

He was right, the gun had some serious kick to it; if Jesse opened his mouth he would afraid he might bite his tongue off. 

The gun started swaying and Jesse had to force against it to keep it on-target. Thankfully, the majority of his bullets hit the drone, which falls apart like it did before. 

A few clicks tell him the gun is empty, and with that he sets the rifle down on the counter with a heavy metallic thud. 

"Thanks for that, but I think I'm going to stick with the small stuff for now." There's a small smile from Jesse. 

Admittably Gabriel was right; this was a nice way to let off some steam and the praise he got from the other man made him feel better.

Sure, he was still a bit upset with the other, but at least now he felts somewhat understood. 

 

The door opens behind them, Jesse and Gabriel both turning to look at who is entering. Who else but Ana Amari. 

And a smaller Ana Amari? 

It takes a second for Jesse to recognize Fareeha, who has a fierce look of determination on her face that Jesse is almost startled. 

Gabriel gives the two a small wave. "McCree and I were letting off some steam and I thought now would be a good time to have him show off his skills." 

Ana walks in further with a nod, looking down the range for a moment before quirking a brow up at Jesse. 

"I see. You are doing very well." 

Fareeha shuffles over to an empty stall. Jesse feels his face burn slightly and he nods. "..Thank you kindly, ma'am.." 

Gabriel pats Jesse on the shoulder, looking to Ana. 

"Hey, mind showing him a few pointers? I have to get some stuff done and I didn't realize how long I've been out here." 

Ana nods as Gabriel gives Jesse a short wave before stepping out. She steps over to him, picking up the revolver. 

"You use this, correct? A fine weapon of choice...if you know how to wield it." 

Jesse looks back to the range, eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion before he looks back to Ana. She was reloading it, before handing it back to Jesse. 

He holds it, thumbing the firing pin-- 

"You are holding it wrong. Allow me to show you." 

She positions his shoulders to be a bit more square, turning his body a bit to the left and his torso facing the range. 

Ana has him bend his elbow oh-so-slightly before she nods, patting him on the back reassuringly and going over to Fareeha, who is holding a semi-automatic pistol with the most concentration Jesse's ever seen on a child. 

He turns back to his own targets. The position feels odd, but when he fires he finds his hand swings up slightly only to return to almost the exact same spot he was holding it. 

Instead, he had relied on simply aiming and hoping for the best, but with this sort of grip he could easily judge where the gun will be aiming when he's ready to fire it again. 

A necessary skill in the heat of battle. 

"There is a difference between lying in wait and hesitating. You must never hesitate, because I can guarantee they will not." 

Ana talks sternly, but as Fareeha opens fire on the targets there is a proud, warm smile on her features that makes Jesse relieved. 

She catches his eye and smiles slightly at Jesse, mimicking shooting with her finger and her thumb and pointing down the range. 

Right. 

He turns back to his own lane, practicing further with this new way to hold himself and finding it wasn't as stress-inducing as holding the revolver was before. 

After a few more rounds, and a few targets and drones destroyed Fareeha bids her mother farewell and exits, leaving just Ana and Jesse in the range. 

He was now working on the moving targets when Ana stepped over, hovering behind him and watching his work. 

She seemed impressed at least, always a good sign. 

 

Ana hums quietly, shifting her weight and putting her hands on her hips. "If you would like, I could stay and give you a few extra pointers." 

 

Surprised, Jesse turns to Ana, blinking, before giving her a small smile. 

 

"I'd like that very much, ma'am."

 

Gabriel Reyes, however, wasn't a very lucky man. 

 

He had grown up in not exactly the nicest part of Los Angelos (which was still nicer when it was  _before_ they cleaned it up.) with not exactly the right kinds of people. 

The man had to work for every inch that he got. 

So it was not much of a surprise that when a hard-working, dedicated man gets his life's work turned upside-down by some farmland pretty boy, he got a little upset. 

Jealousy isn't the word for it. Commander Morrison got his title off of a silver platter, leaving Gabriel with the scraps. 

Blackwatch wasn't much like Overwatch, either. While both teams technically work for the governments they were not only independently run, but showed off a bit differently. 

Overwatch, in Gabriel's opinion, wasn't a task force like Blackwatch. It was a brand, copyrighted and slapped onto baby blue posters to keep the public at bay. 

Blackwatch was where all the dirty work happened. 

 

What Overwatch couldn't bear to do was nicely filed and slapped onto Gabriel's desk, more and more missions assigned as Overwatch started to get a bit disorganized. 

Something about how the system was warping was just messing with Gabriel's head, even though he tried not to worry about it too much. 

And with such success he's accomplished, too, it was easy to forget. For a while. 

 

Some time had passed. It's been a few days since Amari showed Jesse some pointers about shooting with a real gun, he's been properly fitted a Blackwatch uniform and gear, done more tests under Overwatch's favourite medic. 

 

Just another name on the list. 

 

 

It was around 1:30 at night. He just couldn't sleep. Something was buzzing in the back of Gabriel's mind. 

According to his story Jesse came to Deadlock from a poor farm family somewhere in New Mexico. His father and his mother were divorced, and he didn't have any other relatives. 

No aunts, or uncles. No grandparents or siblings. No cousins. 

There wasn't anything on file to even suggest Jesse existed. His mother's name didn't come up in the records, and according to Jesse his father had 

 

Gabriel jolts upright and looks towards the hallway leading to his work computer. There's a long pause and he hesitates, and instead he pulls out his own personal laptop. 

"..Come on, nobody thought to do a thorough check past his rap?" He cursed the system as he typed up something. 

A few clicks here and there and some more information and 

 

There it is. 

 

Robert G. McCree.

Aged 43. Charged with assault, battery, harassment, abuse.  A disgusting list goes on, along with some other things even Gabriel didn't want to see. 

He slumps, rubbing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. "Oh, Jesse..." It was worse than he thought. 

The mugshot was from Robert's earlier years, clearly. He definitely was Jesse's father--the similarities in features was striking. 

One thing he didn't have, though, was Jesse's constant look of..uncertainty. This man's gaze was cold and soulless. A killer's look of someone who doesn't give a rat's ass about anyone whose lives he ruins. 

It's a damn shame the man died in a jail cell. 

Gabriel would've liked to have a piece of him before he got knifed in the back in the middle of a dispute between cell mates. 

 

After scrolling deeper he narrows his brows. 

The laptop is closed quickly and he slips on a black V-neck, storming out of his room. 

 

Nobody is roaming the base around this time, so Gabriel is free to speak about what he'd like without giving a damn about any onlookers. 

"Athena, get me the birth date of agent Jesse James McCree." 

"I'm afraid it is not in my records available to the public, Reyes." 

A corner turned and a snarl emitted. 

"Birthdays?? Really!? Who authorized that to be put under restriction?" 

"...Commander Morrison did, si--"

"Of FUCKING course." 

Damn Gabriel for forgetting a fucking birthday. 

 

He slips into the records library, filing through the most recent box and scowling. It takes a few minutes but he pulls out Jesse's file and slaps it open on top of the box. 

Jesse James McCree, alias 'Deadeye.'

17 years old.

Born on December 25th, 2XXXX.

5'7", 150 lbs. 

Son of Robert Greene McCree (deceased). 

Son of Maria-Jolene McCree. 

 

What. 

He stares at the empty spot past his mother's name. It's a mistake. It has to be. 

 

So, Jesse's mother was alive, and the boy didn't know it. 

 

That makes some things interesting. 

But if his mother was alive, where was she?

 


	2. Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a thing I drew, and where I'll post art for/from the story. someone asked! Also, don't worry, there will be a chapter update on Saturday night (or sooner..)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment on the story!

 

_just a doodle i swear._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missions and merriment ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little update. Here you go!

 

His mother, it turns out, was dead. 

 

Not from being killed by her husband, though, no. 

 

She was mugged in California. 

 

She was looking for her son, and was left in a ditch. 

 

All for the paper in her pocket. 

 

As far as Gabriel knew, she was still in her old house in New Mexico waiting for McCree to come back.

  
  
  


And as far as Jesse needed to know, she was MIA until further investigation. 

  
  


~~~

  
  
  


The days passed in another blur. What with training, the routine, and lectures from Commander Reyes, he didn’t have too much time to himself to think about anything other than Blackwatch, Blackwatch, and Blackwatch. 

 

So, when several of the holidays started to roll in, Jesse almost didn’t notice. 

 

He was walking down the hallway, headed towards the lounge when he heard several people quietly talking and some quiet, festive music playing. 

 

The cowboy peaked his head into the lounge area, and had to do a double-take. 

  
  
  


A circle of people were sitting on the floor with a small pile of money and candy in the center, spinning a dreidel and screaming excitedly with each turn. 

 

There were some stockings (as well as empty shoes) by the fireplace and a small plastic tree was on the table. There was the smell of vanilla in the air and though it was snowing heavily outside, surely, it wasn’t cold. 

 

Reyes and Morrison were snuggled up to eachother in a way that was definitely not professional on one of the couches. 

 

Angela was sipping hot chocolate with Ana by the fireplace, who was speaking to her quietly. 

 

There was a short blond man who was reading a book to Fareeha by the table that was absolutely overflowing with presents, and it was a large table. 

 

Stickers of stars, handmade snowflakes and what appeared to be handwritten wishes were pinned to the walls, and everyone seemed so happy. 

  
  


It was a wonder why Jesse suddenly stepped out, shutting the door behind him. 

  
  
  


The talking suddenly stopped for a moment as the door was shut, whispering following the silence after a few long moments. He rubs at his eyes, feeling his face heat up. 

  
  


There was music playing, still, as nobody moved to turn it off as Jesse made a slight scene in the doorway. 

  
  


“ _ I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas, from the bottom of my heart.” _

  
  


The door creaked open, and Gabriel leaned in the doorway, holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate. 

 

One of them was a plain blue one, the other one had #2 on it in bold red letters. 

 

“..Hey, Jesse.” 

 

Gabriel finally speaks, shutting the door behind him quietly before offering him a mug. 

 

Fat tears rolled down McCrees face as he took it, moving to take a sip. It was hot, but the absurd amount of whipped cream piled on top of it helped with the heat. 

 

The other man seemed pleased at that, despite Jesse’s silent crying, and moved to go on. 

 

“..You know, if you don’t celebrate any holidays, that’s fine. You can still get destroyed by Sa’ul at the dreidel thing he started.” 

 

Jesse sniffs, knocking back his hot chocolate. Gabe just offers him a smile. 

 

His heart felt heavy as he glanced back to the door, where the festivities presumably resumed. 

 

“Listen...I just--” There’s a sigh. “..I can’t really do anything, god, I’m fucking wasted right now if I’m being honest, but hear me out. I’m sorry about your mother.” 

 

There it is. 

 

Jesse lowers his mug, feeling something burn within him and his stomach flips at those words. 

 

“I can’t make you forgive me. I know. I lied to you, and she was dead long before you even came here. But believe me when I tell you that I regret not telling you sooner.” 

 

“I’m not sugarcoating it for you. You thought she was dead, and it should have stayed that way. But damn it, Jesse, I thought you should have the right to know. So I told you. And..” 

 

Gabriel’s voice cracks slightly, and he shifts his weight to give the boy a sad look. 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Jesse had asked Gabriel about his mother once or twice, and got the same answer in return. 

 

_ “I don’t know.” _

 

What a fat wad of bullshit that was. 

 

It took Jesse over a week to get over the fact that not only was his mother gone for good, she was alone and scared and damn it  _ Gabriel fucking lied to him.  _

 

Just to protect him like some child. 

 

So it wasn’t unexpected that when Jesse found out via asking Athena, he saw red. 

  
  
  


There was a long moment of silence between the men as music and merriment continued inside the lounge behind them. 

 

It was going to be difficult to say. 

 

It felt impossible to talk, anyway, but this was just painful. 

 

Still, Jesse’s breath hitched and his shoulders shook as he looked up at Reyes. 

 

“..I forgive you, Gabriel.” 

 

There’s a subtle nod from the man, and he slowly opens the door, giving Jesse an inviting gesture. 

 

Ana and Jack wave to them from inside, as well as a blond and a redhaired pair of boys at the dreidel circle upon seeing them (though those were most likely directed towards Gabriel.) 

 

Jesse furiously wiped off his eyes and sniffled, before following his commander into the room. 

 

_ “I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart!”  _

 

The song was dying down as Gabe shuffled in, quick to come back to Jesse with a small, green-wrapped package. It had penguins on it, which Jesse found to be a little ironic, if not confusing, but he gave Reyes an odd look. 

 

“By the way, happy birthday, Jesse.”

  
  


~~~

  
  
  
  


The first, real, actual, goddamn  _ mission _ he goes on isn’t what he was expecting.

  
  


What he was looking forward to was doors kicking down and guns blazing much like some crime TV shows he’s watched (or rather, others have watched and he hovered over them to see only to be shoved aside). 

  
  


What he got was dolled up and shoved into a plane headed to...where was it? 

 

Jesse looks to the other recruit next to him. 

 

The Blackwatch team is shoved onto a ship and sent over to some country Jesse hadn’t paid attention to hearing, moreso focused on the apparel he was supposed to be wearing. 

 

His hair was gelled and his hat was left on base (much to his chagrin) and he was wearing something nicer than what he  was used to. 

 

Undercover was apparently his first trial, and they put him in a button-up and jeans, with red  hightop shoes and had all of his piercings removed. A woman plucked his eyebrows (ouch) and fitted him with an earpiece before slapping him on the back as she awaited her next victim. 

 

“..Why exactly are we all fancied up an’ lookin’ like this  _ before _ we go to...where was it again?” Jesse quietly asked, the hum of the airship in the background. 

 

The kid--Jacob, or something, looked up to him and offered the cowboy a nervous smile. “Oh! Well, uh, Commander Reyes is sending you, me, miss Amari, and Watanabe to Hanamura. We’re...on the undercover team, remember?” 

 

There’s a hint of condescension that makes Jesse roll his eyes and slump in the hellishly uncomfortable seats of the ship. Right. 

 

Jacob was dressed similarly, with a button-up dress shirt and slacks versus Jesse’s jeans. 

 

He had a black yamaka on and his hair was especially curly, hanging low and his bangs in his face. 

 

“Can you catch me up on what we’re doin’?” 

 

There’s a nod and an amused hum from the redhead and Jesse shuts his eyes. 

 

According to plan, Watanabe (who is dead-asleep on the other side of the ship), McCree and Sa’ul are supposed to ‘infiltrate’ a Japanese night club that the subject frequents. The three of them are all the strikes they have to hopefully befriend and get an inside look onto the going-ons of the Shimada clan. 

 

Ana (who is with the pilot) is going to set up the ship to be a sort of base and give the trio some backup if things go to shit. 

 

Which, Jesse huffed, shouldn’t happen since they’re spying on some  _ kid in a club. _

 

He didn’t pay attention to the briefing and silently thanked the other member of the squad for being someone he could actually count on. 

 

“Right, I knew that.” 

 

Yeah, sure. 

  
  
  


The other two were given callsigns, Morningstar and Raven, respectively, whereas Jesse got saddled with ‘McCree’ or ‘Deadeye’. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable with the whole Deadeye schtick so McCree it was for the time being. 

 

He pulls out the wallet they gave him. 

 

Fifty-thousand yen, a fake coupon, a debit and a credit card with a fake name and a well-made I.D. card was all that was inside. The I.D had a rather photoshopped picture of him slapped onto it, but it was good enough to fool anyone who tries to card him. 

 

According to the plastic he was 25, lived in Minnesota and according to the debriefing by Sa’ul he was ‘travelling for university and ditching it to party.’ 

 

Yeah, this was definitely foolproof. 

 

Watanabe was their translator, since neither of the two of them spoke fluent Japanese and they didn’t have any free agents otherwise. Apparently Overwatch can’t afford to teach their boys to speak anything other than English. 

 

Fucking rude waste of government money. If it was Jesse, he’d spend it on strippers and beer, or something like that. 

 

Probably buy himself a nice house somewhere far away and get a dog, settle down and maybe play poker for a living if he had money. 

 

A few more hours pass and he’s shaken awake by a grumpy-looking Watanabe, whose blond hair is frizzied up from the weather. 

 

“Move. We are heading out. Let’s go.” 

 

Ana and Jacob are waiting for the pair just outside the ship. They parked in a private landing strip and cameoflagued the ship so no onlookers would reveal their base, so it wasn’t like they were out in the open per se. 

 

Jesse lets out a low whistle. 

 

Not too far away from the empty lot he could see the city, along with what had to be Mount Fuji in the background. It was night, around 8 or so, and the city seemed lively. There were lots of different-coloured lights. 

 

“So, you will stick to the plan.” Ana brings him back, and he turns to face her. 

 

A hologram of a young man with green hair and a sly grin on his face was displayed before them. 

 

“In case you forgot, this is who we are here to investigate. This is Genji Shimada, the youngest of the yakuza and more likely to...work with the plan, than say, the other.” 

  
  


The other two nod in agreement, leaving McCree confused. She gestured to the earpieces. 

 

“Get info on the going-ons of the organization and report back. Talk to me when you are alone.”

 

Ana didn’t elaborate. Instead, she teasingly dangled a set of keys. 

  
  
  


“So, who’s driving?"

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to comment, my dudes.


End file.
